


there's no way (that it's not going there)

by askmyknife



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Masquerade Ball, Mutual Pining, POV Tony Stark, Pepper/May background ship, Pining, Slow Dancing, Small appearances from Steve and Rhodey, Steve/Bucky background ship, Thor/Bruce background ship, post-IW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 21:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/askmyknife/pseuds/askmyknife
Summary: There had been several moments during which Tony had felt like Peter had been staring at him when he caught his gaze, or had blushed when Tony had complimented his work or his intellect. It wasn’t things Tony thought were new, but it was as though he was just now realizing that he was capable of making Peter blush at the silliest of compliments. Or that whenever Tony would text Peter, he would reply in the next second.Had it always been this way?Or was Tony finally realizing that there might have been a part of him who liked Peter in a way he hadn’t expect to like him?Or maybe, just maybe, Tony had known for a while, but had repressed any thought, any wonder, any possible fantasy, because there was no way in hell he could cross that line with someone who clearly trusted him with everything he had.





	there's no way (that it's not going there)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



> I have written this for someone long before Endgame came out, and so it stays away from Endgame canon. 
> 
> Other than that, yes, hello, I am back, for those who remember me. I am fully intending to edit and repost my favourite works, and I am currently going through CEO of my heart with the full intent to repost and finish it. It will be a bit different from the OG work because I am adding scenes and rewriting some old ones, but it is obviously the same storyline. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you all enjoy this piece I wrote before I disappeared from the surface of the Earth.

Initially, it had been Thor’s idea.

Because apparently, balls, banquets, what have you—they were _popular_ on Asgard, a great place to unwind, and quite frankly, Tony agreed that they had deserved a rest. After everything that happened with Thanos, Tony almost had been ready to go into retirement. Almost.

(If it hadn’t been for Peter, he probably would have.)

Their victory had been celebrated by the first of many annual Avengers masquerade balls, which became a tradition for all of them, and for everyone else who supported them. But truly, it wasn’t _just_ a masquerade ball anymore. It was a yearly celebration that they had defeated Thanos, that they had restored all that was lost. It was a symbol, more than anything else.

It also eventually became Tony’s undoing.

Because if there was one thing he learned through the years, it was that Peter Parker looked way too good with a mask and a tux. Both always simple, nothing too extravagant. Still, Peter had looked so good the first year that Tony hadn’t even recognized him on the spot. He had looked so…different. Older, perhaps? Then again, Tony should have recognized those brown curls from a mile away. The fact that he hadn’t, and instead focused on how that tux hugged his curves perfectly, had distracted him from the very realization that a part of him was attracted to his protégé, a realization which he very much ignored the moment it crossed his mind. 

Because in his defence, he hadn’t known this was him. 

(Or perhaps he _had_ known, but pretended he didn’t it as an excuse to stare a little bit too long.)

* * *

The second year, though, he had known better. Had not spent too much time looking at someone he _definitely_ should not be checking out, and _definitely_ had not tilted his head to get a better angle at his ass like he had done the year before. Oh, for shame. Tony was married now; he literally had no excuse to check _anyone_ out, much less Peter Parker, who had just graduated high school and wasn’t even 18 yet. _I’ll be 18 in a couple of weeks, Tony_ , Peter reminded him often each time Tony could call him a _kid_ , but still. 

Tony was married. Peter wasn’t 18. And more importantly, Tony had sworn to protect him from everything that might come his way.

(Including himself.)

* * *

Things got harder when he divorced Pepper. Or rather, when she divorced him. He didn’t blame her, really; Pepper always had been good to look out for herself. He was no good for her, and he always had known it. She had always known it, too, Tony was sure. But he thought – _they_ thought – they would be able to look past each other flaws this time. But it wasn’t just flaws, was it? It was the whole way Tony… was. She was tired of seeing him sacrifice himself all the time: sacrificing his health, his time, his life. One would have thought Tony would have changed after facing Thanos, after losing so much, if only for a short while, but _au contraire._ Having lived what it was to have failed, to have seen Peter vanish to dust in his arms, never knowing if he would get him back. Never knowing if he would get back to Earth. If he ever would see Pepper again. If she was still alive, even. It had all only reinforced the way he had lived ever since he had been Iron Man. Putting others before his own life. And while others thought it selfless, he thought it selfish. He was selfish, because he couldn’t bear the thought of living alone. Couldn’t bear the thought of being the only one left alive, while everyone else he cared for was gone.

And so Pepper had saved herself from him, and as much as it broke Tony’s heart, he was happy to know that with someone else, she might have a better chance at happiness.

(He had not expected that better chance at happiness to be May Parker, but that was another story.)

Peter seemed awkward about it all. Watching them dance at the masquerade ball, looking all lovey-dovey. They were still in the honeymoon phase of the relationship, after all. Tony wondered if Peter felt awkward because it was his aunt, or because Pepper was Tony’s ex-wife. And because Tony was right there, beside him, sipping on a scotch and watching his ex-wife smile at May in a way she, quite frankly, never had smiled at him.

“You okay, kid?” 

“You do realize I’m 18 now, right? Almost 19,” Peter pointed out, taking a sip of his soda. 

(No way Tony was letting him drink anything until he was 21, even if his spider genes allegedly made it impossible for him to become drunk and stupid.)

“And I’m still over 30 years older than you. You’ll always be a kid, kid.”

If only Peter knew that when Tony called him _kid_ , it wasn’t because he meant a _child_ , or someone _immature_ , but that it was something very affectionate indeed, and he did sometimes call people ‘kid’ in their thirties kid because that was just who he _was._ In no shape or form did he believe Peter Parker was a child. Never did. 

Peter frowned. “That’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Tony stated, taking a sip of his drink and his eyes fell on May and Pepper once more. It hurt him and made him happy at the same time. Ah, love, or whatever was left of it. He would always care for Pepper, he knew, but he also knew that this had been their last try. It was truly over. 

And that was never easy to accept, even if you knew you weren’t the right person.

“I’m sorry,” Peter eventually said, quietly, prompting Tony to turn his head towards him. 

(How long had Tony been staring at his ex-wife and Peter’s aunt before Peter brought him back to his sense?)

“About? Please tell me you didn’t break something in the lab again.”

“No! No, I didn’t!” Peter seemed to have panicked, albeit only slightly. “I meant about…my aunt…and…”

Tony interrupted him before he could go on and make this conversation very difficult, and very awkward. “It’s okay, Pete. I’m happy she’s happy,” he paused, “I always knew she’d be happier with someone else. I’m glad it’s with someone as amazing as your aunt. Not gonna lie, it stings, but I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about an old man. You can skedaddle and go have fun.” 

“I mean—” Peter cleared his throat, “I’d like to stay with you.” Pause. He looked all the more nervous when Tony raised a brow in response. “If that’s okay.”

(In what world would that not be okay?) 

Tony smiled, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, kid. That’s okay.”

Peter gave him a distressed look in response. Not exactly what Tony thought his response would bring out of him. “I’m not a kid.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are we gonna argue about this all night or can I interest you in a burger? I need something more than finger foods,” Tony stated, taking off his mask. 

“ _Please!_ ” Peter said perhaps a little too enthusiastically, causing Tony to stop in his tracks and give him a curious look. Peter cleared his throat next, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “My metabolism needs more than finger foods. You wouldn’t believe how many platters I’ve had.”

“So you’re the one who eats all the finger foods every year,” Tony pointed out, putting his hand on Peter’s back as he lead him out of the place. “You know we have a name for you, right?” 

“What is it?” 

“The finger stealer.”

“What!” Peter exclaimed, laughing so much they had to stop in the middle of the street because he had to hold his stomach. 

Tony smiled. “Come on, sweetheart. We have burgers to eat. An old man’s dying here.”

It might have been masquerade ball night, but that night, Tony figured there was literally nowhere he would have rather been than with Peter, laughing about finger foods and eating burgers. 

(And this was why the next year had been particularly painful.) 

* * *

Tony probably should have been more hurt to see his ex-wife with her new wife (with which things were going so good, better than they ever had with him) than to see Peter coming to the ball accompanied by a beautiful young woman, who seemed to be able to make him laugh just as much as he was capable of doing so.

(Perhaps even more.)

Tony told himself the whole Pepper ordeal hurt him less only because it was no longer fresh and she was happy, just as he had wanted her to be. But he knew, _he knew_ that he was just bullshitting himself. He was good at that, thankfully. Mastered it through the years. He was easily capable of keeping his feelings under wraps, although it appeared that when it came to Peter Parker, he was not as good as he claimed. 

During the last year, Tony would argue that they had grown closer, close enough for Peter to tell him if he planned on bringing someone to the ball. Or, maybe not. Maybe Tony had been imagining things. But there had been _several_ moments during which Tony had felt like Peter had been staring at him when he caught his gaze, or had blushed when Tony had complimented his work or his intellect. It wasn’t things Tony thought were new, but it was as though he was just now realizing that he was capable of making Peter blush at the silliest of compliments. Or that whenever Tony would text Peter, he would reply in the next second. 

Had it always been this way? 

Or was Tony finally realizing that there might have been a part of him who liked Peter in a way he hadn’t expect to like him?

Or maybe, just maybe, Tony had known for a while, but had repressed any thought, any wonder, any possible fantasy, because there was no way in hell he could cross that line with someone who clearly trusted him with everything he had. 

Tony was the adult. Well, technically, both of them were the adult, but Tony was the oldest one, ergo, had to be the responsible one.

So, no, evidently, Tony had not pursued what any of this could possibly mean.

He did however think they would have gotten close enough for Peter to tell him he was bringing a date. Perhaps it was a girlfriend? It stung. Not that it should. Peter wasn’t his. Would never be his. And whoever this young lady was, she seemed absolutely delightful. 

Tony wondered, could she possibly deserve Peter, though? 

Because in his book, nobody did. 

(Not that he had a say in that, did he?)

Tony wandered off at the ball, danced with a woman or two who came to him. Then danced with Steve when Bucky had decided to take a break. As with every damn time they danced together, Tony made a stupid joke about whether or not he should worry Bucky would go all Winter Soldier on him for dancing with his husband. 

And every time, Steve laughed.

Tony supposed that was what mattered. 

He had hoped to get Bruce to distract him from staring at Peter all too often, but ever since he had (finally) gotten with Thor, the two of them were practically attached to the hip. He could have tried to steal Bruce for a minute, but he didn’t dare disturb them. They were cute. They were happy. 

Everyone seemed happy.

But him.

Funny how that turned out.

So, in the end, he ended up at the bar, trying not to pay attention to the fact that whilst everyone he cared for was happy and with someone who made them happy, Tony was alone, and has feelings for a 20 year old whose aunt was currently kissing his ex-wife. 

What a joke.

“Hey, could I get a soda,” Tony then heard beside him, and honestly, there was only one person who would order a soda at a bar. 

(Plus, in what world would he not recognize that voice?)

“Peter,” Tony turned his head, offering him a small smile. “And here I thought you were coming here to introduce me to your date.”

Peter let out a very nervous chuckle at that. “She’s actually in the bathroom.”

“I’m going to guess she doesn’t know about you being Spiderman. So what’d you tell her?” Tony asked, taking a sip of his drink. 

“I’m here because I’m your intern, and had tickets,” Peter replied, knowing exactly just what Tony was talking about. Tony let out a small scoff, shaking his head as he took a sip of his drink. “What? I am your intern! Technically.” 

“Sure, kid.”

“This again,” Peter narrowed his eyes. “Every year, we end up meeting here, at the bar, and you call me a kid. You know, next year I’m gonna be drinking with you, old man.”

“Old man,” Tony fake gasped. “You wound me, Pete. Don’t rub it in. I already have enough grey hairs.”

“And? It looks nice.”

Bold. That was a very, very bold thing to say, one that made Tony stop for a second, put his drink down as he tilted his head to the side. Peter hadn’t been ironic, or trying to secretly taunt him about the grey hairs. No, he looked, sounded genuine with the compliment. 

Not that Tony even have the chance to answer him. His date-maybe-girlfriend-who-knew was back, linking her arm with Peter’s. 

“Hi, I’m back,” she told Peter with a smile, before turning to look at Tony. “Is it okay if I steal him, Mr. Stark?” 

(No, it was not.)

“He’s all yours.”

(Tony really wished he wasn’t.)

* * *

Turned out the date-maybe-girlfriend-who-knew didn’t last. Tony didn’t ask too many questions. Tried to hide his smile. What kind of asshole was he, happy that Peter had broken up with her? Mind you, he would not have been happy had Peter’s heart been broken, but since (according to Peter) they had left things amicably and it had been a mutual thing (or whatever that meant), he didn’t feel too guilty about rejoicing in the fact that Peter was probably not going to bring someone else to the next ball.

Which was a hypocritical, selfish thought, because it wasn’t like _he_ could go with him. Well, he’d be there, sure, but that wasn’t the same. 

Tony had gone alone, too, mainly because ever since he had realized he had the hots for Peter Parker, he really hadn’t been able to take him off his mind. Not that he really tried mind you. Peter was Peter, and part of Tony just…didn’t want it to stop. It was a sweet torture, and Tony figured out quickly enough that he absolutely was a masochist. 

He did a worry a little, though, when it was already one hour in and Peter wasn’t around. He knew that things were getting trickier and he had summer classes and they had been seeing each other _much less_ in the past few weeks, but still. He hadn’t seen Peter in over a month and a half, and honestly, he was getting cranky.

But then Peter showed up with messy hair and a crinkly suit, indicating he probably had been out patrolling.

It made Tony smirk, especially when Peter seemed to be searching for someone, and then stopped searching when his eyes landed on _him._

Peter joined him at the bar, ordering a beer (and looking damn proud about it too), before speaking up. “Told you I’d drink with you this year,” Peter boasted, sipping on his beer the moment it arrived. Oh, he grimaced, and it was hilarious. 

Tony snorted. “You did.”

Peter fake gasped. “No _kid_? Damn. Being 21 is awesome.”

Tony scoffed in response. Yeah. Of course he’d think that. If only he knew that his sweet years were flashing by and he was heading towards the harder years. Then again. Maybe not. This was Peter Parker. He had lived more in his lifetime juggling two lives than most people twice his age had. “You do realize that now that you’ve brought this up, I’m gonna _have_ to call you kid, right?” 

Peter looked completely scandalized. “I’m drinking a shot each time you’re calling me that.” 

Tony laughed. Oh, he was cute. But, Tony didn’t really think Peter would actually go ahead and do it, and so… “Sure you are, kid.”

Oh, Tony should have known better.

This was the beginning of how Tony ended up having to carry a drunk Peter Parker to _his_ bed, because Peter had been afraid May would want to surprise him in his bedroom at the compound, not that Tony ever recalled her doing that. Then again, he wasn’t monitoring that room for _May Parker_ coming in or not. He was monitoring it for threats, as he was with just about anything else in the Avengers compound. 

The point was, he understood. He was sure May could be a terrifying woman. More importantly, he knew Peter didn’t want to disappoint her. He knew she was worried most of the time. He knew she still didn’t forgive him for letting Thanos vanish her nephew into dust.

(And honestly, neither did he.)

“Thought you couldn’t get drunk,” Tony stated after laying Peter in his bed, sitting at the edge of the bed as his protégé started holding onto his pillow, cuddling instantly into it with eyes closed. 

(It was too cute.)

“Mm’not drunk,” he mumbled in return.

“Uh-uh. Said by all the people drunk tonight.”

Maybe he had drank some of Thor’s liquor? Yeah. Yeah, that was definitely what happened. No question. 

“Tony. Why you keep calling me a kid?” Peter drunkenly mumbled, drooling on his pillow. 

(Great.)

Interesting. In all those years, it was the first time Peter actually asked. Tony was reluctant to reply, but he figured that at this point, Peter was so drunk there was no way he’d remember the next day. Right? 

“Why do you think?” Tony asked, tilting his head.

“Cause…” Peter trailed off, long enough to make Tony believe he might’ve actually fallen asleep. “You think I’m a child. Can’t do anything right… Needs supervision…Don’t trust me…” Peter enumerated, much to Tony’s _horror_. 

Oh, no. No, no, no. How could Tony not have realized that this was _exactly_ what would have gone through Peter’s mind? Shit. So much for his term of endearment, or trying to tease him a little. Turned out to have been just a cruel joke. It made Tony feel sick, unable to wonder how he could not have seen it, and Peter literally had needed to get drunk before being able to tell him. 

Had he really thought that of Tony this whole time? That he thought he couldn’t do anything right? That he didn’t _trust_ him. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Tony responded, shaking his head. Not that Peter could see it. “Pete, it was a term of endearment. Some people I’ve called kid were in their late thirties. I thought I was just teasing you. I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re a child. I never did. And I do trust you. Do you know how many people have access to my lab?” He paused. “You do everything better than me already, Peter. And the only reason why I supervise you is because I’m too damn scared of losing you again. Not because you need it.” 

Peter smiled. “This makes me really happy,” he mumbled, sleepily.

“Guess I’m gonna have to ditch the kid pet name, huh,” Tony replied, small, sad smile curving his lips. 

“You don’t want to lose me…” Peter sing-sang, and Tony rolled his eyes with a smile before ruffling his hair, and standing up. 

“Go to bed, not-kid.”

“Mhm. G’night, not-old man.”

Oh, Tony laughed, and the next day, he reminded Peter of all the things he had told him when he was drunk and half-passed out, just to make sure he had completely understood him and they were on the same page.

(And then he told him again, and again.)

* * *

How long had it been since Tony had realized he liked Peter Parker in ways beyond what he should? Years? It had to have been years. It felt like forever, and those feelings had never faltered. Hell, they had grown stronger with time, and Tony was well aware they wouldn’t change. He had accepted his fate, but one thing he had not accounted for was the fact that Peter might have been feeling the same way all along. 

He had doubts before, mind you. He wasn’t completely blind. But he had often mistaken it for admiration, which he was sure was what it was at first. Or perhaps a silly crush that wouldn’t last, as Tony was well aware how many people had one of those for him. But it had been years, and Peter’s behavior had barely changed, if only to show more of his affection for him. With time, it appeared Peter had allowed himself the occasional hand on the back, alike to how Tony had done to him since a very long time. He also often put his hand on his shoulder when he hovered over Tony to see what he was working on, and Tony almost purposely worked slower so it would _last._

There also had been that one time Peter had put his hand on his to comfort him over a failed mission that had caused the lives of several innocent souls. Peter had carried on explaining how there was nothing else Tony could have done. And all that Tony could remember about that moment was the fact that he had not deserved to turn his hand in Peter’s hold, and start brushing his hand with his thumb, but he _had._

Peter was too good for him. Or more importantly, Tony was no good for Peter. 

Denying his feelings to protect Peter was one thing; but it was another entirely to deny Peter’s. As far as he knew, Peter hadn’t been with anyone else since that lovely young woman all those years ago, as though he was secretly waiting for _Tony_ to get his act together.

(And you know what, maybe he was.)

Tony had arrived early to the masquerade ball that year, shocking more than one person on his path. Rhodey even had taken some time with him, being all too surprised by his behaviour. Tony, early? Yeah, right. In his defence, he needed to take a moment to decide what he was going to do about Peter. And have a drink. 

Not that he even ordered one. Because his best friend was there, it made everything easier. Because it was still quiet enough, Tony was able to tell him everything, ask for his opinion. He expected Rhodey to tell him that he needed to watch himself, that he should stay away from Peter. That he was too young, that he was too good. That his own last marriage ended in flames, and that should mean Tony should stick to what he used to do before: one-night stands, no strings attached. 

But Rhodey stood up when Peter arrived, and placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Go for it, Tony. You deserve more than you think you do,” Rhodey told him before turning around, greeting Peter before leaving the two of them alone.

Huh. Rhodey had been his voice of reason for so long, not that Tony always (or ever) listened. But, tonight, he was going to listen. 

“No drinks this year? Are you trying to become sober, Tony?” Peter asked, raising a brow, suspicious. 

If Tony had been drinking something, he would have choked on it. “Not gonna happen. Thought we could switch it up. The whole dance of me and you at the bar, me calling you kid and teasing you. And instead….actually dance. 

Peter looked very, very dumbfounded. He stared at Tony in silence, as though he was expecting him to say it was a joke. But it wasn’t. “…Really?”

“Please tell me you’ve realized this is a masquerade ball _._ ”

“I have!” Peter retorted, “I—We just never…did that.”

“You know, Pete, if you don’t want to, you can just say no.” 

“No!” Peter exclaimed, cheeks turning bright red instantly. “I mean no, I don’t want to say no, I—” he stammered.

Tony decided he was going to save him the embarrassment. He stood up, offering him his hand. Peter very sheepishly took it, following Tony onto the dance floor, one Tony had very rarely used all these years despite it being a _Masquerade Ball._

Because he had thought it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to dance with Peter.

And because Peter was the only one he _really_ had wanted to dance with. 

It was a delightful that a slower song just happened to start playing the moment they arrived on the floor, making it relatively easy for the both of them. More importantly, it gave Tony an excuse to pull Peter even closer, looping an arm around his waist to keep him close to him. His hand in his fit so perfectly it almost erased every of Tony’s worries about what he was going to do next, about what might this mean for the both of them.

(Not that he needed an excuse anymore.)

But then Peter looked at him with such a bright, enamored gaze that Tony felt completely overwhelmed. Peter always looked at him with affection, but this was something else. He was happy. Oh, so happy. 

And in the end, wasn’t that all Tony wanted? 

“How long have you wanted this?” Tony asked, deciding that the cat was out of the bag. There was no use denying it, not when he knew how Peter reacted to dancing him with, to being in his arms, to hold his hand in such an intimate manner. 

He himself wasn’t going to deny how much he wanted this, either. Not anymore. Not to himself. Not to Peter. Not to anyone. 

And it seemed like Peter wasn’t going to pretend, either. 

“As long as I can remember,” Peter replied, cheeks still darkened by his beautiful blush. 

“Then what are you waiting for?” Tony asked, and while Peter seemed to have completely understood the meaning of his question earlier, he seemed not to have understood that one in the slightest. “Kiss me, sweetheart,” Tony thus helped him, and Peter’s jaw dropped. 

Had Tony and he not been on the same page earlier? He had understood, right? Or perhaps Tony had overestimated how clear he had been earlier. He had spent years denying themselves _this_ despite all the signs, despite how the both of them felt—it wouldn’t be that surprising that Peter wouldn’t have understood Tony was _finally_ switching gears.

Or perhaps he had understood, but had been too shocked by Tony’s bold demand. 

Tony smirked. He began speaking, in a light, almost teasing tone to bring Peter out of his trance. “Am I gonna have to ask again, or do you plan on—” 

But then Peter finally kissed him, and at that precise moment?

All was right in the world. 

  



End file.
